Fairy Lights
by kci47
Summary: -"You know, Wizarding Christmas is silly," she told him. "Not nearly as silly as wrapping yourself in electric lights," he answered.- A fun, fluffy Christmas gift for the incomparable WeasleySeeker! Post-DH, Hermione and Ron's first holiday together as a couple.


"Ron! Can you come help me with this?" Hermione's frustrated voice rang out in their small cottage.

"Coming!" he called, reluctantly setting aside his reading material. He loved when the store owls brought the lists of the latest Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product ideas, but he knew Hermione would not be pleased if he didn't respond to her quickly.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Ron wondered what she needed now. Earlier, she'd shooed him away, saying only that she was going to decorate their new house for the holidays and wanted it to be a surprise. It was their first Christmas together as a couple, and he didn't want to disappoint her. He knew that Hermione's holiday traditions were important to her, and he was loathe to ruin things—he still felt massively guilty about how she'd spent her Christmas last year, on the run from Voldemort and terrified.

Bursting into the living room, Ron quickly took in the scene and started laughing. Hermione glared at him while he struggled to get himself under control.

"You called for me?" he asked as innocently as he could.

"Yes! Now untangle me!" Hermione snapped. She was entwined with some kind of green rope, and Ron grinned some more as he noticed that it was even snagged in her hair. Striding forward, Ron bent to examine the large knot of rope—actually, no, it was wire—at her hip.

"You're a witch, you know," he said conversationally as he circled her, trying to find the end of the wire. Hermione was forever insisting that Muggle methods were just as good as Wizarding ones, an attitude that Ron just didn't understand. A simple _Diffindo_ and she'd be free as a phoenix.

She huffed out an agitated breath before saying, "My wand is in the kitchen."

"Well, there's your problem," Ron said. He'd made two full circles around her and still had no idea how best to extricate her. Hermione was the one who was best at spells requiring precision.

"It's not a _problem_, Ronald, it's—oh, bugger, I'm sorry. It's hardly _your _fault." Hermione blew a curl out of her eyes and looked forlornly at him. "It's just that I like setting out the Christmas tree by hand, you know? That's always how we decorated when I was a kid, and I wanted our first Christmas together to be special, and—"

"Whoa, it's alright, Hermione, let's not panic here!" Ron waved his hands in front of her, unnerved by the tears welling in her eyes. They were just bloody _decorations _and she was getting all weepy? Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Ron looked over the tangled mess that was his girlfriend. "What _are _you wrapped in, anyway?"

"Don't be obtuse." Hermione sniffled and Ron began to feel a little panicky, himself.

"I'm not, I swear!" he assured her. "I've never seen rope quite like this, but I think we can _Diffindo _it—"

"No!" Hermione screeched. "Don't cut it! Then all my lights will be useless!"

"Lights?"

"Oh, honestly." Hermione harrumphed. "Look at the little colored bits. They're lights."

Squinting, Ron saw that the bizarre rope was in fact covered with tiny light bulbs, sort of like the ones his father had stockpiled in his shed. Tugging gently at one strand of wire, he followed it with his finger, hoping to find a loose end. He decided it was probably best to keep Hermione talking while he worked. "How do they work again?"

He felt rather than heard Hermione's sigh, but when she spoke, her voice seemed steadier. "You plug the lights into an outlet, where they get electricity. Then they light up. These ones will be all different colors."

"Right. And...where are these going?"

"On the Christmas tree."

She gave no further explanation. Confused, Ron glanced up at her. "Won't they burn the fairies?"

"What?" Now it was her turn to be confused.

"The fairies. Won't the lights get hot and burn the fairies?"

"There aren't any fairies in our tree, Ron."

"What do you mean, no fairies?" Forgetting what he was supposed to be doing, he stood and crossed his arms indignantly. "Christmas trees are covered with fairies, everyone knows that."

"Maybe every _wizard _does it that way, but this is my tree and I'm doing it the Muggle way!" Hermione's tone had taken on the mulish quality that Ron knew spelled trouble for him. If her arms weren't strapped to her sides by the weird "lights" then he knew she'd have planted them on her hips.

"Yeah, how's that working out for you?" Ron asked without thinking.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Just get me out of these string lights and then we can argue properly."

Ron knew better than to agree to _that_. "Oh, no. I'm not freeing you just so you can lecture me. I'll only help you out if you promise to be nice."

"I won't make any such promise, Ronald Weasley!"

"Then enjoy yourself. Wand's in the kitchen," he tossed over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

"Wait!"

Ron paused but didn't look at Hermione. He knew his expression was smug. He didn't have to wait long before she relented.

"Fine. I'll behave. Just get me out!"

"Say please."

"_Please_," Hermione growled.

Grinning, Ron ambled over to where she stood and went back to work on the knot at her side. He worked in silence, knowing when not to push Hermione's limits, and they both relaxed when he managed to loosen a few strands and started to unravel her. After a bit more tugging and threading, she was free enough to help him, and it only took a few minutes after that before she was able to step out of the tangled mess.

Hermione flapped her arms a few times and shook her entire body, making Ron laugh. A small, sheepish grin spread across her face, and then, they were both laughing hysterically. Collapsing onto the sofa, they continued to chuckle at the absurdity.

Finally, Ron turned to her, asking, "Why didn't you just spell them onto the tree?"

Hermione's cheeks reddened slightly. "I told you, I—I wanted to do this the Muggle way. _My _way."

Ron rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "You, wanting to do something _your _way? Gee, I never would have guessed!"

Hermione punched him lightly on the arm and they laughed a little more. Eventually Hermione sighed and hopped up again, going to stare at the messy heap of lights on the floor. "I suppose you want fairy lights in your tree," she said, almost to herself.

"Hermione, if it was left up to me, we wouldn't even have a tree, much less a decorated one. I still don't know how to Transfigure a teacup; I'd never be able to manage a whole fir tree. So you could decorate this with Cornish pixies and I'd still be impressed."

"That's very sweet of you," she murmured. "But I didn't even—wait, what do you mean, Transfigure a tree?"

"That's what you did here," Ron explained, slightly concerned that Hermione was losing it. "That's probably just some old plant from the yard, right? And you turned it into a full Christmas tree. With magic."

But Hermione was shaking her head. "No, I went out to one of the local farms this morning while you were doing Wheezes invoices and picked this one out," she explained slowly.

"What? You picked a whole tree?" Ron stared at her, aghast. Her head barely topped his shoulders and she'd brought a whole tree home?

"That's what I said. How did your parents get their trees?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.

"I—well, I dunno, Mum always took care of that stuff," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I'm pretty sure I saw her doing some spellwork on a Screechsnap once."

Hermione's expression was one of doubt, but she didn't argue. "Well, it's here now. Maybe we ought to leave the lights and work on the fire."

She bustled over to their fireplace and began to pile logs in the grate. "Could you bring me the matches?" she called over her shoulder.

Looking around their cluttered space, Ron wondered what she was talking about. He didn't want to ask and seem even stupider, though. _Matches, matches, what are matches? _His eyes lit on a box and he hurried over to pick it up and take it to Hermione.

"Here you go."

Hermione reached over her shoulder without taking her eyes off the fireplace, but then she saw what he'd handed her and spun to face him.

"I asked for the matches. These are the stockings." She wiggled the package at him.

"Uh...what are matches, again?"

"Nevermind." Hermione leaned past him to grab a smaller box off their end table and turned around to light the logs.

"Stop! What are you doing?" Ron yelled, terrified that she was about to burn anyone coming through their Floo.

"I'm lighting—"

"And how will anyone come visit, if you set fire to our Floo?" he demanded.

Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed, then looked at the fireplace. "But all Wizarding fireplaces have fires..."

"Magical fires!"

"Oh." Hermione's hands dropped to her sides, and she seemed dejected.

"Hey, I know! Let's go make some peppermint cauldron cakes for St. Nick." Ron hated to see her sad, and he didn't know how to bridge the divide between her Muggle traditions and Wizarding culture.

"Cauldron ca—Nevermind. I suppose that's the Wizarding equivalent of biscuits and milk."

"_Milk_? You leave _milk _for St. Nicholas? Eugh!" Ron made a disgusted face.

Hermione set the matches down and turned to face Ron fully. "Do you read The Night Before Christmas or A Christmas Carol?"

"Dunno what those are." Ron shrugged. "Mum always read The Christmas Troll or Lockhart's Holidays with Hags."

They stared at each other for a moment before Hermione started to smile. "And what do you use for stocking stuffers?"

Ron scrunched his face up. "Why do you have to stuff them? Just use an Extension Charm and put whatever you want in."

"Christmas carols?" Her smile grew.

"Celestina Warbeck."

"Elves make all the toys?"

"House elves, probably."

"Who pulls St. Nicholas' sleigh?"

"A sleigh? He has a broom. And the toy bag's pulled by Hippogriffs."

A peal of laughter escaped Hermione's lips and she threw her arms around his shoulders. "You know, Wizarding Christmas is silly," she told him.

"Not nearly as silly as wrapping yourself in electric lights," he answered.

"I didn't mean to wrap _myself_," she said, pretending to be offended.

"Too bad. That's a present I would've liked to receive." Ron slipped his arms around her waist and locked his hands at the small of her back. She really was perfect.

"You've already got me." Hermione's tone had gone from playful to serious.

"That's not entirely true," Ron murmured. He squeezed her tighter when she tried to pull away. "I'd like to have you, though, if you'll have me. Will you marry me, Hermione?"

She gasped before flinging herself at him, raining kisses all over his face. "Yes, Ron! Of course I will."

"Bloody fantastic." Ron savored a few more kisses before lifting his head and staring into the shining face of his new fiancée.

"We can go into Hogsmeade tomorrow and pick out a ring, oh, wait til Ginny and your Mum hear—"

"Hermione—"

"—and of course Harry, and your dad—"

"Hermione!"

"—be all over the _Prophet_, no doubt—"

"HERMIONE!"

It looked like she nearly bit her tongue off as she snapped her jaw shut, but he was finally able to get a word in. "We don't need to go to Hogsmeade. Just let me run upstairs."

She released him and Ron sprinted for the staircase, laughing when he heard her pounding footsteps right behind him. Entering his office—Hermione had insisted on separate work spaces—he tapped the concealed spot on his desk with his wand and a small drawer popped open. He retrieved the tiny box and turned to Hermione, remembering at the last moment to bend down on one knee like he'd seen on her Muggle movies.

"Hermione Granger, will you—"

"I already said yes, Ronald Weasley!" She launched herself at him and they sprawled backwards onto the floor, more kisses landing on his neck and jaw. Somehow he managed to slide the rose-gold band onto the proper finger, and then he was free to enjoy himself. But at the touch of the cool metal, Hermione sat up and stared at her left hand.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "But how did you know I like amethyst?"

"Just that clever, I guess," Ron replied, wanting to get back to the kissing. Hermione shot him a look that let him know she wasn't fooled. "Er, and Ginny might've mentioned it. When we were at the jeweler's."

Hermione was clearly deciding whether or not to be upset that his whole family knew he was going to propose, and she hadn't. Before she could make up her mind, Ron sat up. "I love you, you know," he said softly.

"Oh, Ron, I love you too," Hermione replied. Ron smiled as the kissing renewed.

And they lived happily ever after.

* * *

**A/N: AH, the fluff, the FLUFF! This is a Happy Christmas gift to my wonderful beta/friend (because let's face it, you stopped being "just" a beta a long time ago!), the wonderful WeasleySeeker. Merry Christmas!**

**I used some of her prompts from the holiday fic exchange on HPFC and thought it would be funny to see Ron and Hermione coming to terms with each other's holiday traditions. The bit at the end came out of nowhere.**

**As ever, I'm not JK Rowling!**


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